


Pool Party

by servalansflowers19



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Crack, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack, Explicit Language, Marijuana, Possible spoilers (but very minor), happy birthday altair ibn la-ahad, it made sense at the time, so many weird ships Shay could barely dock the Morrigan, total absurdity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:07:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22301575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/servalansflowers19/pseuds/servalansflowers19
Summary: AU crack of a pool party for Altair Ibn La-Ahad hosted by the rest of the crewA collaboration withsofiaandZark's Wisdom.Originally developed from a chat on AC Tumblr Discord to mark the 855th birthday of Altair Ibn La-Ahad on 11 January 2020.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	Pool Party

Dear brother George, 

As you have tasked me with reporting any and all Brotherhood developments to you, mostly because you still haven’t budged from Croydon, I write to inform you of the celebrations we arranged on 11 January to mark the birthday of the Great Mentor Altaïr Ibn La-Ahad. 

Captain Kenway (Edward, not Connor) kindly offered his villa and the poolside court for the occasion. It took him a while to get it off AirBNB, but we still made it in time. 

Edward (I use the informal address to distinguish him from the other five Kenways) kindly offered to provide the drinks. Rum generally mixes well so we accepted, provided he supplied white rum as well. He also thoughtfully provided some Ouzo for the misthioi.

Evie and I took care of the decorations. For all of her love of history, she seemed to think that adding glitter and smiley hearts to Masyaf flags was an improvement. 

Signor Ezio Auditore kindly offered to cater. While none of the Brotherhood are great believers, I dared to suggest that the birthday boy and Malik may not be fond of pork. I was told that “prosciutto is a blasphemy only to an imbecile”, so I left him to it. 

Kassandra and Aya offered to provide the music. While I am sure both ladies have lovely voices, I was still relieved to see them drag in a turntable rather than a karaoke machine. We did have some argy-bargy over it as Ezio wanted to include some of his homeland’s hits but Kassandra put her foot down – if no sirtaki, then no canzone either. 

I must admit to having been a little worried about Kassandra’s brother, young Alexios, joining us. His sister implied that he was fostered, in her words, “by a bunch of sociopaths with a  _ Phantom of the Opera _ kink”. The young man, however, was perfectly content to do some stretching exercises by the poolside as long as we let him use the sliding door as a mirror.

Jacob was the first one to join him. I must admit that there was a competitive edge to the entire flexing exercise. Just as I was getting worried it may get out of hand one way or another, Kassandra kindly walked past them, showed them a bicep each, and that seemed to settle the matter. 

The friendly atmosphere was somewhat spoiled by our host, Edward, notifying us of a sail on the horizon. While that should ordinarily cause no concern, the words “here comes my stick-in-the-mud son with that Irish gobshite of his” did not bode well. As Connor and Arno had joined us by that time, comments along the lines of “fuck that guy” and “the fuck does the petit chou want with us” were heard soon after. 

(I must apologise for the somewhat crude language in the letter, but you did ask for veracity and authenticity. I shall make no further excuses so as not to belabour the narrative).

What I did not, expect, however, was for Arno to end up in the pool fully clothed. I may be wrong, but I think his lady friend Elise took exception to his comment that “one more Templar fundie won’t really make a difference”. 

I was far more concerned about Mr. Bellec’s reaction. He, however, seemed quite content to keep Ezio company close to the bar. My Italian is not too good, but Evie assures me that what I took to be cries of admiration was Italian for “get this fucking fanboy off of me, I never said any of that!” 

The Templar company arrived somewhat worse for wear. While I expected nothing short of a fistfight between Mr. Haytham and Bellec, I was pleasantly surprised to hear them arguing philosophy and North American politics. 

By this time, I was a bit worried about how much they both had to drink, so I turned to Connor for help. He was busy giving the kids piggyback rides in the pool and politely informed me that he had “never seen the taco hat guy before in my life”. When I insisted, he obliged me by getting out of the pool and throwing Mr. Haytham into it, thereby ending the conversation. 

I undeservedly got an earful from Bayek about throwing “Templars or whatever you call them now” into the pool when he was playing Marco Polo with Khemu and Connor’s kids. Connor tried to smooth it over by pointing out the connections between the Polo family and the Masyaf Brotherhood, but Bayek told him to “get that geezer out of the pool before he passes out”. 

The rest of the American crew, which incidentally included Shaun Hastings who pointed out that he was in no way American, showed up fashionably late. I was hoping they would have a bite to eat first. However, the young lady by name of Rebecca Crane pulled out a bag of something that looked like crushed oregano and made a cigarette out of it (Yusuf had brought a hookah, which she referred to as ‘a bong’, much to his confusion). She spent the next hour or so intensely assisting Kassandra at the music table and pressing the oregano on her. I am not familiar with the current parlance, so the phrases such as ’the good kush’ and ’totally 420’ went a little over my head. 

The young Mr. Miles, whose uncanny resemblance to Great Mentor and birthday boy threw us all, beelined for the bar, much to Ezio’s pleasure. The atmosphere changed quickly, however, as the first words out of Desmond Miles’ mouth, directed at Edward Kenway, were “On what planet is that a martini?” followed closely by “You don’t put olives in a Margarita, you moron”. 

Again, knowing there was some bad blood there, I wondered about how the meeting between the very English Assassin Shaun Hastings and the Extremely Irish Templar Shay Cormac would go, especially since I did not want to see Shaun, taser still attached, landing in the pool. It was therefore quite good to see Shaun Hastings engaging Mr. Bellec in conversation. He immediately informed him that, while he personally considered him one card short of a full deck, the post-structuralist analysis was on the side of the argument, as his approach to deconstructing the structures of power was quite in keeping with the prevalent post-colonial discourse. Mr. Bellec’s repeated comments of “Post what, you English pisspot?” did not deter him in the least. 

As always, the sight of Jacob strutting to the bar was unsettling. On being introduced to Desmond, however, he was extremely friendly, even going so far as to state that he was glad to finally meet “the corgi guy” in person.

It turned out that the second ship we spotted (after a quick argument between Cpts. Cormac and Kenway about whose spyglass is bigger) was in fact Altaïr II. I was sure Mr. Gavin Banks would never leave his post, much to my regret. However, we were joined soon by a very damp and jolly Ms. Galina. While I was not surprised that such an athletic lady was a good swimmer, I still don’t understand how she made it to the shore with four bottles of vodka in her backpack. 

Ms. Shao Jun and Mr. Kiyoshi (a friend of the young American group, as I understand) arrived soon after. It was a relief to be joined by two people from cultures that valued good manners and respect for elders. 

The relief was short-lived. Mr. Kiyoshi took one look at the half-empty bowl of  _ risotto al sale marino e fauna acquatica  _ and said “What idiot cooked this rice?”. Before Ezio could offer anything in his defence, Ms. Jun said “Damn, granpa, you call that noodles?” and promptly took over the catering. Ms. Avelline de Granpré muttered something about ‘food for real people’ and joined Ms. Jun to consult on chillies. The consultation must have been pretty in-depth, because they quickly left the area with a bottle of Chartreuse to continue a very engaging discussion (Evie assures me that I missed something, but I am not sure what). 

Ezio was given leave to put the finishing touches on his last bruschetta. Incidentally, it was served to my father, Arbaaz. I was not sure how the old man would fit in with the crowd. He was fine, though. I found him some time later commiserating with Mr. Haytham about “stubborn kids who just won’t listen”, “wuss sons who can’t even kill a chicken” and “at least your one is not a loose cannon with an axe”. 

I was tempted to correct both my father (I was instrumental in the successes of London Brotherhood) and Mr. Haytham (the weapon is in fact a hatchet or a tommahwak), but thought better of it. 

It was a relief to hear Evie playing the piano to make up for the lack of music. Aya had joined Bayek in the pool and I could not find Kassandra or Ms. Crane anywhere. The music would have been a lot better if Jacob had not insisted on accompanying his sister on a ukulele. He cannot have thought of it himself, so I suppose that must have been Alexios’s idea. The young Greek lad was certainly taking great effort to show Jacob how to hold the instrument properly. 

Evie heroically managed to accommodate Ezio’s request to “play something everyone knows” and settled on a dance tune. It was a little embarrassing to observe the great Master and Mentor Ezio asking Ms. Aveline for a dance only to be passed over in favour of his own sister, Ms. Claudia. He decided to drown his sorrows at the bar. 

Every man needs validation, that is true, but I was saddened to observer Ezio seeking assurances from Edward and his son that he was “the more attractive sibling, right? Right?”. I suppose even the great can fall prey to the sin of vanity. Luckily, young Alexios was at hand to engage him in a conversation about olive oil, of all things. The conversation went quite well until Ms. Aya pointed out to both of them that the oil is, in fact, used for cooking. This seemed to shock and stump them. 

Ctp. Cormac had sobered up and was quite attentively perusing a book with Ms. Elise. Of course I was very curious, and Ms. Elise obliged me by reading out a short entry from what appeared to be a journal: 

“ _ Dear diary, Zio thinks I am stupid. Curse my hegemonic discourse. FML _ ” 

I was left a little nonplussed by this. The pair found it incredibly amusing, although Mr. Haytham did not. 

We did have some peace and quiet after Alexios and Jacob got permission from their respective sisters to go inside and play Mario Kart. 

By this time we were starting to wonder where our guest of honour, Malik and Maria had got to. They did finally show up, rather late, using the excuse of traffic (strange, as I was sure they walked), the road being uphill and various couriers (I was not sure what this meant). As Maria would not stop giggling, this brought on a round of ungentlemanly sniggers from Jacob and Alexios. Evie accused them of low class and “South Park humour”, to which Jacob responded by asking Malik if he’d seen something called  _ Bigger, Longer, and Uncut _ , at which Maria pushed him into the pool. 

At his point it was time for the cake. Evie, the connoisseur that she was, had settled on a date and walnut cake, which was roundly approved by all, except Mr. Haytham who took one look at it and excused himself due to his apparent allergy to nuts. While that would seem the most reasonable thing in the world, Shay had to comment “never heard you complain before, Master Kenway”. We were lucky that others were there to shield the cake and the candles as there was quite a splash when Shay landed into the pool. 

Anyway, Brother George, I will stop here because the lull after the cake (young Ms. Crane calls it a “food coma”) seems to be over and someone, possibly Arno, is yelling rather enthusiastically about the karaoke machine. 

Your brother in the Creed, 

Jayadeep Mir


End file.
